


Perish the Thought

by Morrigayn_DeWyvern



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-15
Updated: 2015-10-21
Packaged: 2018-02-13 07:38:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2142648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morrigayn_DeWyvern/pseuds/Morrigayn_DeWyvern
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shockwave's experiments have very unintended consequences for Ratchet.  This story is loosely based around Evolution and Defenseless and goes straight AU.  I don't make money and I don't own Transformers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The idea for this story came from the following picture: http://morrigayn-dewyvern.deviantart.com/art/TFP-Humanformers-Optimus-and-Ratchet-391479966 by Lauren Bennett. I have full permission to use her picture for Ratchet in my story. Optimus is not human in this story nor will he become human. There will be explicit het smut later in the story.

Ratchet tried to reason with Predaking even as the monster mauled him and threw him like a rag doll.  It has not been the Autobots' intentional desire to destroy the clones of his brethren in their tanks.  Megatron had led them into it, and Shockwave set the stage. It was Megatron's fear that the Predacons could overthrow the Decepticons that was the source of the carnage.

Ratchet dropped and rolled from a spray of fire erupting from the dragon's maw, “Think...analyze...overcome your bestial programming....why would Autobots want to butcher your kin?  What would we gain?  We found Shockwave’s laboratory too easily!  There were no guards!  Megatron wanted your brethren dead so they couldn’t stand against him!”

"You lie!"  Predaking roared.  "I saw my kind destroyed with my own optics.  My lord told me what happened!"

Predaking growled as he stalked the medic. He would never forget his brethren's twisted, charred remains.  Their faces contorted in dying screams.  Bodies gnarled as they fought to break through their tanks. The smell of burned flesh.  There was no mercy for his kin, and Predaking would show none now. He pounced on the medic and clamped his serrated jaws on the medic

Ratchet screamed in pain and anger as he fought back with his blades and parried the dragon-former, "You ancient collection of lugnuts, are your processors fried...Autobots don't butcher people deliberately!"  

The dragon former simply would not accept that his lord and one true master would do something so vile. Predaking continued to attack and maul the medic. Ratchet did his best to defend himself from the beast, but it was simply too strong, too well equipped and too vengeful to stand against.

Ratchet lost his footing as the beast bore down on him, flames erupting from its gaping maw.  Ratchet made a last desperate attempt to elude Predaking.  Ratchet threw himself to his right skidding along the metallic floor sending sparks flying in his wake.  Predaking caught him with his tail in a suffocating grip.  Ratchet struggled and cursed.  Predaking maneuvered the medic to his face.

"Join my kin in the Pit." Predaking growled low.

Predaking tore into Ratchet's chest plates.  Metal squealed and shrieked as the medic was opened like an orange.  Energon and other fluids sprayed the dragon's face from ruptured lines.  Ratchet screamed in torment as the predacon ripped him apart.  The myriad errors and diagnostics ran across Ratchet's HUD in an infinite loop distorting his vision.  Ratchet felt his spark casing fracture. Predaking roared in triumph and threw Ratchet with all his might.  Ratchet's torn, broken body somersaulted through the air and crashed  into a door. The door collapsed inward and Ratchet's body tumbled down onto a pyramid of canisters.  One ruptured from a wayward throw of the medic's blades and spilled a viscous slurry into the medic's frame.   Predaking turned away from the carnage and re-entered the Nemesis without a backward glimpse.

While Ratchet was fighting with Predaking, a glowing, green blossom of a ground bridge bloomed deep in the lower decks of the Nemesis.  Ultra Magnus, Wheeljack and Bulkhead ran through with weapons raised and sensors spread wide to pick up any tell-tale signs of Vehicons or Insecticons.  Behind them, the ground bridge winked shut in an instant.

It has been fortuitous that Soundwave’s RAM was not completely cleaned when he was captured by the Autobots and forced himself into stasis.  Ratchet hard lined into static mech hoping to find some data not corrupted or lost.  Most of it was not of any use, but there was enough information left behind about the Nemesis’ containment field for Ratchet to develop a work around to ground bridge into the ship, at least until the ‘Cons discovered it out and reconfigured their containment field.  Ratchet had hoped it would be an ‘ace in the hole’ as humans said for their final assault on the warship.  He hadn’t counted on being captured by Soundwave and hauled aboard the Nemesis.

Optimus had been left with the decision to try to save his medic or continue the search for Predacon bones and fighting the Decepticons when and where they were found.  After some thought, Optimus split his team.  He sent Smokescreen, Bumblebee and Arcee to search for Predacon remains and to fight the Decepticons in the field; and he sent the Wreckers into the Nemesis to find Ratchet.

The warship was blessedly quiet.  None of the Autobots knew of Starscream’s failed soldier experiment and the energon vampires that resulted.

The Wreckers were unnerved by the silence and were jumping at shadows as they made their way up the various decks of the Nemesis.  As they neared the open deck, they could hear the sounds of a violent fight.  Metal shrieked.  The walls vibrated and collapsed as the fighters hit the walls.  Roars and violent curses could be heard above the cacophony.  Then silence.

Wheeljack and Bulkhead hurried toward the door opening to that deck.  Ultra Magnus stayed further back to provide coverage.  Wheeljack blew the door with a grenade and Bulkhead ran through with weapons powered up and stopped suddenly.  Wheeljack barreled into him.

“What’s the hold up, big guy?” Wheeljack growled into Bulkhead’s back plates.

Bulkhead didn’t say anything but pointed.  Wheeljack squinted through the smoke, peered around the behemoth’s shoulders and could see the offlined, grey peds of Ratchet laying half in a door.  Wheeljack’s optics widened and cycled to reboot.

“Frag!”  Wheeljack shouted.  

He immediately pushed Bulkhead out of the way and sprinted to the prone form.  He picked up canisters and threw them left and right.  Bulkhead and Ultra Magnus followed behind guarding for Decepticons.  Wheeljack fell to his knee joints and cradled the grey, dead body of Ratchet against his shoulder struts as he cursed in multiple Cybertronian and alien dialects.  

Bulkhead made a strangled sound in his voice coder at the sight of the mangled form of their medic.  Ultra Magnus’ lip plates thinned to a straight line at the scene and the clawed replacement for his right hand clicked in agitation.  Wheeljack gently wiped the energon, coolant, lubricant and chunks of unknown materials from Ratchet.  Cuts, tears and ripped tubing hung in a tangled web across the medic’s open chassis.  Chest plates hung loosely askew from warped and broken hinges and locks.  His spark chamber was breached and inundated with a foul slurry of unknown origin.  Wheeljack’s jaw was clenched as he fought the desire to purge his fuel tanks.

“Prime, we found him, but it’s not good!”  Ultra Magnus commed.

“What is wrong?” Optimus responded even as he opened the ground bridge.

“It’s best if you see for yourself.” Ultra said sadly as he motioned to Wheeljack to gather up the remains as phosphorescent green unfurled behind them.

Wheeljack gently cradled Ratchet’s torn body as he stood up, ignored Bulkhead and Ultra Magnus and turned to walk into the ground bridge.  Bulkhead and the leader of the Wreckers followed in solemn silence.

The ground bridge winked closed in an instant.

Optimus was nervous and agitated waiting for the Wreckers to return with Ratchet.  When they came through the ground bridge, he felt his spark collapse in his chest.  Wheeljack carried in the grey remains of his oldest and truest friend.  Ratchet had been butchered by ‘Cons.  Optimus shuttered his optics for a long moment praying to Primus that his optics had deceived him.  He opened his sight to the carnage and hope failed him.

Wheeljack carried Ratchet’s broken remains to the medbay and put him on a berth. He vacantly stared at his hands covered with energon.  Bulkhead gently lead Wheeljack off to clean up. Optimus grasp Ratchet’s cold, grey hand and brushed his broken faceplates with his free hand.

“What happened?” Optimus whispered.

“Sir, when we entered the Nemesis, it was deserted.  We did not come into contact with any Vehicons or Insecticons in the lower decks.  We slowly reconnoitered the entire deck and moved to the next deck moving upward looking for Ratchet.  As we went higher, we could hear sounds of a terrible fight. When we reached that deck, Ratchet’s grey frame was all we found.  We collected him and bridged out immediately.” Ultra Magnus finished lamely.  

He felt if they had moved through the other decks with haste, they would have saved the ancient medic. The failure of his leadership and its consequences weighed heavily on his spark.

Optimus could see the guilt in the optics of Ultra Magnus. “Old friend, do not blame yourself for this atrocity.  The Decepticons are where the blame lies.”

Optimus gently laid Ratchet’s hand on his chassis and turned to comfort Ultra Magnus.  As he was stepping over, he heard a small sound coming from Ratchet’s frame.  Ultra Magnus stiffened as he too heard the sound.  Both Autobots moved quickly over to the grey frame.  The noises became louder and coherent.

“Fraggin glitch!  Pit damned Predacon....what is this slag am I covered in?”

Ultra Magnus’ and Optimus Primes’ audios had be deceiving them to hear Ratchet’s voice coming out of his remains.  Both rushed up to the berth looking for signs of life.

Optimus rushed, “Ratchet...Old Friend....are you okay?”

Ratchet yelled, “Optimus...is that you...how...”

Optimus and Ultra continued to look at the grey frame with incredulity.  They saw small movements in the spark chamber of their medic but no other signs of life.

Ultra Magnus responded, “Ratchet, we found you after a fight and brought you home...we thought you were dead...you look dead...grey...”

Ratchet snapped, “Well you can see I am not dead...Predaking beat the scrap out of me...I lost consciousness after he threw me into a closet containing canisters of something Shockwave was experimenting with.  I am just covered in some Pit damned filth...help me out of this slag!”

Optimus and Ultra stared at each other in confusion.  Ratchet’s frame lay cold and lifeless as it had before with the exception of his spark chamber covered in a miasma of gelatinous goop.  Optimus reached a tentative hand out and swiped at the sticky mass.  It slid down the spark chamber is a sickly slurry.  

“Damnit, Prime...where in Unicron’s Pit did you put me while I was out? It looks like I am climbing out of a cave.”  Ratchet’s voice grunted with effort to get free.

They could see a small hand reaching the edge of the chamber and feeling for hold.  The small hands grasped the edge of the spark chamber and a befouled, naked, human male form hauled itself out of Ratchet’s spark chamber.  It lost its balance and slid down the slimy side and landed in the filth and broken lines surrounding the spark chamber.

Ultra Magnus jumped back.  His optics were white with panic as he stumbled and hit the ground.  He scrambled backwards into the legs of Wheeljack and Bulkhead as they were returning after Wheeljack’s wash.

Wheeljack looked down in confusion.  “What’s going on, Sir?”

Ultra Magnus pointed at Ratchet’s prone form and then collapsed as his processors froze up.  Wheeljack and Bulkhead stepped around the prone form of their commander to see what was so horrific to cause the unflappable Ultra Magnus to lock his processor.  They walked beside Optimus and looked.  Optimus’ optics were white and beginning to fade showing a coming glitch.  Wheeljack punched the Prime hard in his shoulder.

“Hey, boss!  Wake up.  Don’t need ya crashing like Sleeping Beauty back there!”  Wheejack spat.

Optimus shook his helm and rebooted his optics twice.  “Ratchet?  Is that you?”

The small human male looked up at Optimus through long locks of bedraggled, tangled, slimy hair.  He yanked at the hair and hissed.  “Fraggit to the Pit!  What is this slag attached to my helm?”  The human pushed the filthy hair back and glared menacingly at the trio.

“Well, what are you three bucketheads looking at?  Don’t just stand there! Help clean this filth off of me!”  The small human ranted in Ratchet’s voice.

Bulkhead screamed like a girl and turned to run.  He tripped and fell over Ultra Magnus knocking his helm into the door.  He fell into unconsciousness.  Optimus continued to stare uncomprehending.

“Frag!”  Wheeljack guffawed.  He began to laugh and wheeze.  He fell on his aft and held his chest plates.  “Of all the Primus damned things...”  Air whistled through his vents as he tried to catch his ventilations.

Optimus cleared his voice coder and spoke gently.  “Ratchet...I think you have become a human.”

Ratchet stopped pushing at the filth attached to his head and looked at his very human looking hands.  He began to feel the arms and lastly touched his face.  He then looked down at what he was sitting on...his dead Cybertronian body.

Ratchet closed his turquoise eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.  “Well, Primus frag me running!”


	2. Chapter 2

Agent William Fowler groaned as the high pitched ringtone on his cell phone went off for the tenth time in a row.  He knew that ringtone.  It was the one he chose to alert him when the Autobots were calling.  He turned over to ignore the tone and covered his head with his pillow.

"Leave a damned message!" William muttered as the ring stopped abruptly to switch to voicemail.  He pulled the down comforter up over his head and sighed as the ringing did not begin again.  As he was dozing back off, the ringing began again.

"God damnit to hell!" William yelled at the air as he tossed the covers off and swung his legs over the side of his king sized bed.  He pulled his tired, heavy body out of the bed and walked across to the dresser where his phone was plugged into the charger.  

"What is seven hells do you want, Prime!  Calling me a million times at..."  William looked blearily around to the clock on the heavy oak nightstand which showed the time in neon red digital. "3:30 am on the only god damned day off I have had in a month!"

Fowler absently rubbed his face with his left hand and ran it over his head and down his tense aching neck.

"I do apologize, Agent Fowler, but we have a situation." The regal baritone of the Prime spoke quietly.

"Prime, when do you not have a situation?  Unless Megatron is blowing up the White House, I don't want to hear about it!" Fowler groused.  Only day off he had in a month.  All he wanted to do was sleep, eat and binge on Netflix as he caught up with laundry and housework.  Couldn't he just have one normal day?  Was that too much to ask?

"Agent Fowler...We need you to come to the Autobot base.  Something terrible has happened, and I do not have the ability to deal with it." Prime pleaded.  Agent Fowler was not moved by the tone of the Prime even if he had never heard the Optimus plead for anything.

"Get Ratchet then!" Fowler groused.  Ratchet could fix anything.

"Ratchet is the situation." Optimus sighed.

Agent Fowler quit rubbing his neck and pacing at that bit of news.  He liked Ratchet.  They were two peas in a pod...older, experienced and cranky as hell.  "Alright, Prime.  I am on my way.  Lemme get a shower and some caffeine in me first."

"Oh, Agent Fowler....could you bring a few changes of clothes with you?"  Optimus asked cautiously.

"Why?" William asked in confusion.

"You'll understand when you get here.  I can't explain this on the phone." Optimus answered.

"Fine, Fowler out!" Agent Fowler cut the connection on the phone and threw it in his bed as he muttered under his breath.  

William yanked open the chest of drawers and grabbed socks, boxers and clean undershirts.  He stalked over to the closet and pulled a few pair of jeans and shirts from it.  It was his day off and he sure as hell wasn't wearing a suit and tie.  He rolled up his extra clothes military style and stowed them in a duffle bag.  He grabbed the clothes not stowed away and made his way to his bathroom.  

A hot shower and a shave later, Bill was sitting at his kitchen table drinking a hot cup of coffee and eating an egg on a roll with salt, pepper and ketchup. A long ago visit to New York had introduced him to the quick and tasty breakfast. He savored the silence as he ate.  He began to wonder what was going on at the Autobot base.  Why would they needs his clothes?  Maybe another human had been caught up in the crossfire of Autobot and Decepticon?  That would make sense about the clothes and secrecy.  Where did Ratchet fit in?  Did he pick up the human?

Agent Fowler gulped down the last of his coffee and stood up to put the empty dishes in the sink.  He pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed.  "Hey, Mrs. Darby.  I am sorry to wake you. No the kids are fine as far as I know. The Autobots asked me to join them at their new base and bring clothes. I think another human has become entangled in that mess.  Can you join me?  The guy might be injured."

Agent Fowler listened as June spoke.  "Thanks, Mrs. Darby!  See you there."

He hung his phone up and jammed it back into his pants pocket and yanked on his socks and sneakers.  He grabbed the duffel bag and made to leave his home.  Agent Fowler looked up at the sky as he locked the front door. He could see the pink and purple of the rising sun and the stars fading. He shook his head and sighed. Too many days he met the sun as it rose. He unlocked his jeep, tossed the duffle bag on the floorboards and got in. He didn't bother with the seatbelt.  The engine roared to life.  He threw the jeep in gear, and the tires squealed and smoked as he hit the gas hard. He pulled the jeep out of a small fishtail and made his way to the interstate leading to the new Autobot base.

June was not sleeping when Bill had called.  She had been on night shifts at the hospital for weeks and had a few days off before switching to days.  Her body was still on night shift time.  She was about to go to bed when her phone rang.  She checked the ID and saw it was Bill Fowler.  He had been her only link to Jack when he and Arcee had been on the run. She felt grateful for his thoughtful calls and would answer whenever he called.

"Good morning, Bill." June answered with warmth.

She smiled when Agent Fowler began to apologize.  "It's okay, Bill.  What's going on?  Are the children safe?"  

June worried.  Jack and the others were no longer on the run, but they hadn't returned home either.  Agent Fowler felt they children would be safer and better protected at a secret bunker far from Decepticons.  She reluctantly had agreed.

June listened as Bill told her his suspicions based on a cryptic conversation with Optimus Prime.  "Okay, Bill.  Let me gather a few things.  I'll see you there.  Bye!"

As much as she liked the Autobots, there were days she wished they had never come to Earth.  Life was so much more complicated now.  June sighed as she gathered up a few medical supplies and some toiletries.  It had occurred to her and not to anyone else, this poor man might want a shower.  She then stripped out of her nightgown and pulled on some clothes. She pulled her long, black hair up into a loose ponytail.  She grabbed her supplies and purse.  She stopped on the way out to look in the hallway mirror and apply her go to makeup:  eyeliner, mascara to her eyes and a pale, pink gloss to her lips.

She stepped out as the sun broke over the horizon.  She shielded her eyes as she fumbled through her purse for her sunglasses. She sighed in relief as the dark shades blocked the glare.  She unlocked her car and tossed the bags into the passengers side, slid in to the driver's side, buckled up and tried to start the engine.  It did not turn over.

"Shit!" June growled a the cold engine.  

She pumped the gas pedal a few times to prime the carburetor and prayed to God she didn't flood it.  A second time, the engine turned over and began a sluggish rhythm.  She let the engine warm up.  Maybe some day, she'd have a new car instead of rolling around in the car her and Jack's father had bought second hand seventeen years ago.  When the engine was warm and idling in a purr, she put the car in gear and began the trek to the Autobot base.

Optimus paced back and forth in the entrance of the new base.  It had been a clusterfuck as the humans said.  

Wheeljack had laughed hysterically for a quarter of a human hour before getting himself under control.  No amount of reprimands from Prime could get snap the Wrecker out of hysterics.  Finally, the laughing died down to giggles then silence.  He noticed Optimus glaring at him.

Wheeljack looked sheepish for a moment.  "Sorry, boss bot!"

Optimus just nodded as Wheeljack got himself off of the floor. "Perhaps you can assist your fellow Wreckers?  I think a good recharge would be best."

Optimus wanted everyone out of the medbay so Ratchet had some privacy in this strange moment.  He was going to have to call Agent Fowler.  Optimus was out of his depth with this situation.

Wheeljack nodded and walked over to Bulkhead's prone form and gently shook his friend's shoulder.  "Hey, Bulk, wake up.  I can't carry that wide aft of yours to your berth.  C'mon, big guy!"

Wheeljack could hear the gears moving as his friend slowly onlined.  "Damn, Jackie.  My helm hurts."

Wheeljack laughed.  "That happens when you barrel helm first into a door."

Bulkhead nodded and then stiffened as he remembered.  "What was that..."

Wheeljack made shushing motions with his hands and murmured, "Don't say anything, Bulkhead.  Ratchet can hear you.  He's human some how. Dunno how the doc and OP are gonna deal."

Bulkhead shuttered his optics and shook his helm.  "Can I just go recharge?  I need a long defrag to deal with this."

 

"Yeah.  Is what Prime suggested, but I need your help with Sleeping Beauty over there.  Mags locked his processor up good and is out for the count."  Wheeljack motioned toward the prone form of Ultra Magnus.

Bulkhead moaned and nodded.  Ultra Magnus would have their collective afts if they left him on the floor.  He helped Wheeljack manhandle their leader off of the floor.  Jackie gasped, "Damn...I am gonna start calling old Mags here wide aft from now on."

Bulkhead and Wheeljack slowly moved Ultra Magnus out of the medbay and down the hall to his berth room.  They settled him in as best they could.  They then turned to their shared quarters and collapsed into their own berths and immediately powered down into recharge grateful to retreat from the terrifying ordeal Ratchet was in.

Ratchet just sat and stared into nothing for the longest time after figuring out he was human.  Optimus gently gathered up his oldest friend in his hand.  Ratchet slowly and mechanically climbed into Optimus' hand.  He turned back and peered over the Prime's hand at his Cybertronian form and made a small sobbing sound.

"Do you think...do you think I can be repaired?" Ratchet choked out.  His form was so mangled and broken.  He should have died...wished he'd died than be caught in this flesh sack.

Optimus ran a gentle finger down the back of Ratchet. "I am positive, Old Friend, that between you and Wheeljack, your Cybertronian form can be repaired.  I have faith you will figure out a way to return to your true form."  Optimus tried to soothe his friend.  In truth, Optimus doubted anything could be done for either, but didn't want to hurt his friend by saying so.

"Optimus...I don't know..."

"Shh. Just rest a bit, Ratchet.  Let me call Agent Fowler.  We need help."

Ratchet just nodded and looked again at his form.  He didn't think Agent Fowler could do much but was too overwhelmed to try to talk.  He just curled into himself and closed his eyes hoping to escape from the nightmare he had awoken to.  Optimus noticed Ratchet was trembling.  Optimus felt bad for not noticing his friend was cold and wet.  He looked around for something to warm Ratchet.  They didn't have much at this base for a human as the children were housed elsewhere for their safety.  He settled on chamois buffing cloths.  It was all they had that was absorbent and large enough to cover the medic's new form. He tucked a large chamois cloth around Ratchet.  He curled up in the cloth but the trembling didn't stop.  Optimus was at a loss.  He then remembered the interior of his alt form.  In his root form, the windows on his chest plates opened to a compressed interior.  It was soft and warm.

Optimus mentally opened the window on his left side.  "Ratchet, I am going to put you inside me to keep you warm."

Ratchet stirred and looked up at Prime.  His turquoise eyes were glazed.  He nodded slowly.  Optimus gently maneuvered Ratchet into his interior and closed the window.  He adjusted the ventilations to keep fresh air circulating.  Ratchet curled back into himself and lay still.  Optimus could feel the trembling slow to tremors and finally still.  A quick scan showed that Ratchet had fallen into recharge...sleep...Prime corrected himself mentally.

Optimus called Agent Fowler.  No one picked up.  He dialed again and again.  Desperation had made him stubborn. He would call until someone picked up.  Finally, Fowler answered.  Optimus pleaded with Fowler.  Finally, the agent agreed.  Optimus hung up and made his way to the entrance.  He paced slowly back and forth waiting.  He heard two cars drive up.  Impatiently, he opened the doors to the entrance and saw Fowler and June getting out of their vehicles.  Optimus' spark flooded with relief at the sight of them both.  In his shock, he had never considered June.  Her expertise as a nurse practitioner would be greatly needed.

Agent Fowler and Mrs. Darby looked up at Optimus.  They could see something was very wrong.  His lip plates were drawn in a tight line.  His optics were white at the edges, his armor was drawn tight against his protoform and vibrated with tension.  Agent Fowler felt a bit sheepish for going off on the Prime.  June's worry magnified to deep concern the moment she saw Optimus.

"What has happened, Optimus?" June asked quietly.  

Optimus knelt down and offered them him right hand. He didn't have time or resources to slow his walking down to accommodate the humans.  June and Bill stepped up shouldering their respective bags on their shoulders, and the Prime gently grasp them as he quickly stood.  He did not want them to be injured because of his haste.

He began to speak as he made his way into the deep recesses of the base.  “We captured Soundwave a short while back.  Ratchet wanted to hack him for information.  Soundwave cleared his drives for the most part and put himself into stasis.  Ratchet did get some mildly useful information from Soundwave about the Nemesis’ containment field.  Soundwave rebooted from stasis at a critical time and captured Ratchet...”  Optimus was interrupted by the questions from June and Agent Fowler.

“Is he okay?  Was he rescued..” Both began in unison.  Both stopped at the sick look on Prime’s face plates.

Prime nodded.  “I sent the Wreckers into rescue Ratchet.  They got there too late.  He had been in a fight with Predaking, and they found Ratchet’s offlined corpse in a closet.  They brought him home.”

Both June and Fowler groaned and closed their eyes.  “Ratchet...is dead?” June whispered.

Optimus ventilated deeply.  “If it were that easy...no...Ratchet isn’t dead.  He was found covered in something Shockwave was working on, and it had very unexpected results.”

Optimus opened the door to the medbay.

“Damn!” Bill shouted at Ratchet’s butchered body.  June covered her eyes for a moment.

“He survived that?” Fowler bellowed and waved his hands toward the broken chassis and miasma of materials coating it.

Optimus opened the window in his chest with his left and removed a small bundle.  He brought his left hand down level to his right and opened it. “In a way...yes...this is Ratchet.”

June and Bill both could see a human shape wrapped up in it.  The human sat up and peered out of the bundle of chamois.  When the chamois slipped back they could see a middle aged male covered in some dried, caking and flaking mess.  The only thing that was recognizable as Ratchet were the bright turquoise eyes that were staring warily back at them and the sharp sanguine square tattooed brilliantly on the strong square chin.

“Ratchet?” June asked softly in disbelief.  She could see the look of panic and shock in the man’s eyes.

Ratchet nodded slowly and whispered, “Yes.” A large hank of clotted hair fell over his eyes and trailed stickily down his face.

Bill just looked in open mouthed wonder as June walked over to Optimus’ right hand and knelt down to be face to face with Ratchet.  She pushed the hair away from Ratchet’s face.  Ratchet moaned and tried to pull away from her touch and retreat into the familiar of Optimus’ hand.

“No, Ratchet. Don’t pull away. Let me help you.”  June spoke quietly.

“You...you can’t...fix..this!” Ratchet spat out between chattering teeth and heaving breaths.  Ratchet began to tremble violently. “I don’t....think....anyone...can!”

June recognized Ratchet was in psychological shock.  June gently palmed his jaw and Ratchet looked at her with tears streaming down his cheeks.  

“Ratchet, you are in psychological shock. You are hyperventilating.  You will faint if you can’t slow your breathing down. Do you understand?” June spoke slowly and quietly.

Ratchet nodded.  He closed his eyes and moved to rest his head on Optimus hand.  Ratchet remembered reading on psychological and physical shock when the Autobots first came to Earth and the children had become involved in their eons old conflict with the Decepticons.  He knew knew he had to try to get control of this strange body’s reflexes.  He took in a deep breath and slowly exhaled relying on the natural instincts of this body to do its job.  He repeated that again and again.

June continued, “Yes, like that.”

Ratchet kept his eyes closed as he leaned against Optimus’ hand.  The smell of metal, lubricants and oxidation were soothing as were the minute sounds of gears and tension cables adjusting and the lower almost imperceptible hum of Optimus’ spark beat as it pulsed through the energon lines and protoform of the Prime.  Ratchet concentrated on those sensations as he tried to calm his human body.  His breath slowed to a natural rhythm and the trembling finally stopped.  When Ratchet became aware of his surroundings again, he was not surprised to find June next to him with her arms around him.

Ratchet nudged her away and sharply said, “I am functional, Nurse Darby.”

June chortled as she leaned back into her heels and slowly stood up.  She held her hand out to Ratchet.  He reached out with his right hand.  He stopped and stared at it in honest surprise.  His hand was covered in goop from Shockwave’s experiments.  It was partially dry in spots and flaking away.  He ignored that.  What caught Ratchet’s surprise was his own hand.  It was strong with long fingers that ended in strong square tips.  The nails were straight and healthy.  His skin looked fine and was cream colored.  He flexed his hand into a fist and absently watched the dried detritus flake and fall away.  He turned his hand this way and that looking in rapt absorption at the muscles and tendons flex under the skin, the way the skin creased and folded as he fisted his hand, unfisted it and waved the fingers.

Ratchet shook himself out distraction and looked sheepishly around.  Optimus’ lip plates were in a tight straight line.  His optics were wide and Ratchet could see them pulsing and white at the edges indicating great stress and fear which was completely understandable in Ratchet’s opinion.  Agent Fowler looked confused and kept swallowing as though trying to get something stuck in his throat clear.  June, alone, seemed calm and collected.  She looked at him with warm, encouraging eyes and a small smile of reassurance.

“Sorry!” Ratchet mumbled as he took June’s hand.  

June helped him stand.  Ratchet stood slowly and carefully.  This body seemed to have no issues with vertigo or balance he noted with some relief. It was disconcerting not to have directional data, among other things, running in the background in a sub-processor or popping up in a HUD if the need arose.  This human body was more instinct and nervous reflex than anything.  He had very little direct control over the majority of the human body’s systems.

Ratchet was careful to keep the chamois buffing cloth of the Prime wrapped around him.  He thoroughly knew the American obsession with modesty.  Ratchet felt foolish for falling apart and then getting lost in looking at his own hands.  He cleared his throat and tried to take control of the situation.

“Thank you, Optimus, for calling Nurse Darby and Agent Fowler. I think I need to clean myself, and you need to look me over, Nurse Darby.”

Ratchet was fastidiously clean as a medic in his Cybertronian form.  The filth coating him was itchy and uncomfortable. He would not tolerate unhygienic conditions now, either.

Agent Fowler spoke up for the first time, “Uh...Optimus asked me to bring clothes.  I don’t think they’ll fit.”

Ratchet waved him off.  “They’ll be fine for the time being.”  He looked up at the Prime. “Optimus, put us down on the floor, please.”

“Are you sure...” Optimus began.

“Yes, yes, yes. Put us down, Optimus.” Ratchet snapped impatiently.  He had no patience for Optimus’ guilt, fears or over vaunted sense of concern.  Ratchet was past hysterics and his practical nature was asserting itself.

Optimus winced at the sharp tone of the small human glaring up at him but did as he was instructed.  He slowly knelt down and put his large hands to the floor for the trio of humans to step down.  Once the humans were down, Optimus stood up.

Ratchet looked up at Optimus, “Go recharge and defrag.  Doctor’s orders! We’ll figure out what happened tomorrow.”

Optimus nodded recognizing the tone and while did not want to leave Ratchet in human hands alone, Ratchet would have none of his “coddling” as he so often said.  He turned and silently left to his own quarters.  On the way, he closed the doors to the makeshift medbay hiding the ruined visage of Ratchet’s mangled Cybertronian body.  While the Prime was happy Ratchet lived, he was stupefied as to what to do next.  A good defrag may help.

Ratchet turned to June and Agent Fowler. “Well, let’s go.  If this squishy brain isn’t malfunctioning, there are a barracks and shower that way.”  

Ratchet waved his hands in the general direction of a dimly lit hallway and began to walk down that way trailing the chamois buffing cloth behind him.  Every step or two, pieces of the unknown substance from Shockwave’s experiment would flake off.

Agent Fowler nodded, “Yes, there are barracks down that way with a shower and restroom.  It works, but there are no cleaning supplies.”

Ratchet humphed at that and rolled his eyes.  “Well, damn it to the Pit!  Guess hot water will have to do.”

June decided to speak up. “I bought a few toiletries along with some basic medical supplies.  I can give you a basic exam.  Anything more involved will need a trip to a doctor, and you don’t have a human identity.”

Ratchet smirked, “Thank Primus for prepared nurses! As to my identity, Agent Fowler will be creating one as soon as possible.  Isn’t that right?”  Ratchet raised one scarlet eyebrow as he glanced at Bill.

“Uh...yeah...I’ll get to working on that right now!  Here’s the clothes.”  Agent Fowler tossed the duffel bag at Ratchet’s feet and turned to leave.

“Where are you going?” Ratchet demanded.

“To work on your ID....I think Nurse Darby can deal with your...uh...human...ah...issues.” He yelled over his shoulder.  Bill Fowler was not going to be washing Ratchet’s human arse...no way...no how.  It was going to be hard enough to get Ratchet a human ID without images of Ratchet’s nether regions dancing through his head.

June laughed at Agent Fowler’s retreating back. “You coward!”

Bill yelled over his shoulder, “Damn straight!  I’ll be back in a few hours with something.  Make sure he is presentable!”

Ratchet just looked perplexed as June grasped her waist and fell against the wall laughing.

“What was that about?” Ratchet snarled. He hated feeling like he was in the dark about things.  He jerked the loose chamois tighter around himself and huffed.

June pushed herself off of the wall and re-shouldered her pack. She stepped up beside Ratchet.

“You’ll learn, Ratchet.  You’ll learn.” June said.

Ratchet just rolled his eyes and stomped down the corridor murmuring. “Damned Unircron addled, humans.”

June just smiled softly and shook her head softly at Ratchet’s retreating form.

Ratchet looked over his shoulder and yelled, “Are you coming or what?”


	3. Chapter 3

Ratchet entered the washroom. It was lined with shower heads, knobs for hot and cold water and drains. Typical military wash rack. He turned to see Nurse Darby as she caught up with him.

“Nurse Darby, did you bring specimen collection materials?”

June nodded and dropped her bag. She knelt down and began to rummage through it and pulled out a few sterile collection cups with lids, baggies, etc., and waved them at Ratchet.

Ratchet gave her a genuine smile. “Good. Collect some of this stuff off of me. I am not sure what Shockwave was working on, but this is the only thing that could have done this to me. Please collect wet and dry specimens.”

June smiled at Ratchet’s professional manner that was in such contrast to his bedraggled appearance. June quickly put on gloves and collected flakes, wet material, and even bits of Ratchet’s hair and nail clippings. Anything that she felt would benefit Ratchet in his analysis. 

“Thank you, Nurse...”

“Please call me June...”

“June, could you please go put the specimens in the medbay for further study. We can collect specimens from my Cybertronian form.” 

“Do you need help...” June knew he was trying to get her out of the wash rack.

“No, June. I don’t think so. Please give me the toiletries.” Ratchet said dismissively. This human form was too primitive to be difficult to wash. There were few nooks, crannies, crevices, mechanical joints, etc.

June smiled at Ratchet’s naive bravado. She took the wash cloths, towels and toiletries out of the bag and handed them to Ratchet. June turned to leave with the specimens. It was a quiet walk back to the med bay. The door had a human sized opening to enter. She silently entered and looked around. It was her first time in new base. She noticed the haphazard, shabby condition of the med bay. There were boxes and canisters that were piled and partially unpacked. The Autobot sized computer was running and she could see glyphs of Cybertronian scrolling across the screen along with human data. She dropped the specimens on the human sized table and turned to leave. Her eyes fell on the grey corpse of Ratchet’s Cybertronian form. Her eyes widened and her stomach churned. 

That mangled and broken form in no way resembled Ratchet. Tubes and transformation lines hung in tangled ribbons. She could see fluids dripping out of the body. Energon, coolant and lubricants pooled and dripped over the edge of the medberth to plop and spatter on the floor. A growing puddle of the slurry was swelling and running into the corner of the room due to the old, uneven flooring. The protoform that would be a shiny, silvery hue when full of life was the color of aged cement. June closed her eyes. She vowed she would do everything she could to assist Ratchet.

Mechanically, she used the human lift to get to the corpse of Ratchet. She collected a few specimens from the side she was on. She quickly thrust them into the specimen bags along with a few bits of protoform and other small parts of the corpse. Her hands were shaking when she was done. She hit the down button on the lift and was soon on the floor where she collected more specimens of fluids. She rose and grabbed the specimens from the table. She resolutely turned away from the broken visage and left the medbay. Halfway down the hallway, she heard Ratchet scream. It was a scream of pain. June quickly sprinted the washroom. 

June tossed the samples on the bench and made her way to the showers. She found Ratchet screaming and rubbing at his face. “Primus, damned, fracking hair....my fragging optics!”

“What is wrong, Ratchet?”

Ratchet swung around facing her voice. He lost his footing in the soap and slurry and fell flat on his arse. He grunted and scrubbed at his face. June took a breath, turned the shower to a lower pressure. She could see his long hair was full of shampoo and trailing down Ratchet’s face. The soap must have run into his eyes.

“Ratchet, close your eyes and lift your face.” June instructed as she stepped under the spray and knelt down. She took the washcloth from Ratchet. He turned his face up towards the gently falling water, and it washed the bubbles back from his face. June wiped the soap from his face and pushed the mass of dirty, soapy hair from his face.

“Open your eyes!” 

“No, it’ll hurt!” Ratchet snapped.

“Only for a moment then the water will wash the soap out of your eyes.”

Ratchet complied. When the soap cleared from his face, June helped him up.

“Turn around, Ratchet, and I will help you with your hair....there is a lot of it.” 

“Why in Unicron’s Pit would an intelligent species make a cleaner that burns their damned optics?” Ratchet huffed as he turned his back to her. June could see his hair literally trailed down to his backside and was thick with whatever Shockwave was working on. This was going to take some time. June started at his crown and slowly began the process of washing and detangling the mass.

“Because we are illogical! Give me the shampoo.” June said.

Ratchet thrust it back toward her. “Primus damned hair! Stuff just gets everywhere!”

“I can cut it for you when it is dry.” She said. She had cut Jack’s hair for years until he decided he wanted the spiky, messy look he sported these days.

“Can you shave it all off?” Ratchet asked with some hope in his voice.

June chucked, “No, Ratchet, you would look silly.” She took a closer look and could see that a good bit of it was tangled and knotted beyond hope. “I can cut off a good twelve inches at the bottom, leave you with hair mid-back. You can keep it in a braid, or I can cut it short and you can touch it up every few weeks.”

“I don’t want to have to bother with that every few weeks. I guess a braid...wait...how do I do that?” Ratchet said at some loss.

“I can show you.” 

Ratchet huffed. “I hate this!”

“Of course you do!” June said sympathetically.

Ratchet turned and glared at her sharply waiting for a punchline. It was well known his disdain for human physiology. June only had a look of concern in her eyes. 

“Thank you.” Ratchet mumbled as he turned back towards the wall.

June finished cleaning the grumpy medic’s hair as best as she could. “Why don’t you rinse off, Ratchet and get dressed. I’ll meet you in the locker rooms to help with the hair.”

June motioned to the empty room with rows of lockers where human soldiers kept their effects at one time. Ratchet nodded and stepped back under the shower to rinse the soap from his body and hair keeping in mind to shut his eyes this time. When he felt sure he was clean, he turned off the shower, pushed the water and hair from his face and opened his eyes.

Ratchet stared at the white, industrial tiles of the shower room and listened to the water drip from the shower and his hair. It was a bad recharge flux that just wouldn’t stop.

He sighed deeply and turned to grab the towel hanging on the hook near the shower. Ratchet swiped at the water on his body and hair. When he was reasonably dry, he wrapped the towel around his waist and held it as he carefully made his way across the water slick floor. His backside was still aching from the earlier fall, and he had no desire to repeat it.

June turned toward Ratchet as he made his way into the locker room. She motioned to a wooden bench that a pile of clothes were sitting on. He slowly grabbed the clothing and looked at the items and shook his head dismissively.

“I can put on these without your help, June!” Ratchet barked at her.  
June turned and left silently to let Ratchet deal with the clothes. He read enough of American culture to know what the garments where and how to put them on. He tried the underwear on and watched as they fell into a white, wrinkly puddle at his feet when he released them. He suspected as much but hoped perhaps the elastic waistband would shrink to fit his narrow waist...apparently it was too much to hope for. Commando it would be then! He kicked the oversized underwear and watched them skid across the floor.

Ratchet put a white undershirt on and an old, careworn, blue jean button down on top of that. They swam on him but he could not be picky at the moment no matter how stupid he must look. He pulled on a pair of black jeans that would have fallen off if he wasn’t holding them. He looked around at the bench and pushed a few odd garments to the side. He was lucky to find a belt. Not so lucky that it was too big with not enough holes.

“Primus...this sucks exhaust!” Ratchet muttered. He tied the belt as well as he could around his narrow middle. He ignored the socks and shoes. Shoes wouldn’t fit and no need for socks.

“I am dressed, June.” Ratchet spat loudly between clenched teeth.

June walked back in to find Ratchet swimming in Agent Fowler’s clothes looking for all the world like a boy playing dress up with his father’s clothes. She pressed her lips hard together to keep from smiling at the obviously distressed man.

Ratchet noticed the humor dancing in June’s eyes and snapped, “This is not funny!”

Ratchet looked at his waist with the belt in a knot and the long legs of the pants looking like elephant ankles around his feet. He lifted his hands and the cuffs were too long. He thought a moment and chuckled. “Never mind...it is too damned funny!” Ratchet laughed louder at the situation.

June watched in concern that Ratchet would fall into hysterical laughing. He chuckled for a few more moments then fell quiet. June sat Ratchet down and began the slow process of detangling Ratchet’s hair. She noticed how smooth and shiny it was, gleaming silver, pearlescent white and a deep, crimson red streak through the center . The lowest part was beyond help, a mass of tangles, knots and snarls full of gunk. She took a pair of scissors from her purse and cut a blunt line across the hair at his waist removing a good foot of hairball. 

“How long?” June asked.  
“Huh?” Ratchet murmured. The sensations of the woman slowly combing and straightening his hair had a soothing effect. He jerked and realized he had been falling into recharge...asleep. 

“How long do you want your hair?”

“Long enough to stay out of my way!” Ratchet trying to wake himself up. He kept trying to fall back into sleep. It was scary to have no control. It was like flat lining and going into stasis lock after a grievous wound. One had no control at that moment. 

June cut another six inches off his hair then proceeded to braid it. She pulled the tie out of her own hair and used it to bind Ratchet’s.

“All done!” She patted Ratchet’s shoulder and stood up. 

He watched her gather up the hair with quiet approval as she collected specimens of his hair and the great ball of hair and gunk. Ratchet stood up quickly to help and waivered slightly as dizziness overtook him.

June gently maneuvered him back to the seat. “I’ll do clean up.”

“I am not an invalid!” Ratchet spat with less venom. She could see dark circles under his eyes as well as the fatigued set of his body.

“Not at all. But it would be best if you held these while I clean the mess.” June shoved the bags of various specimens into his hands more to keep them busy than any real reason. She also passed him the small cooler she had brought. Ratchet silently put the specimens away as June cleaned up the wash rack and disposed of the hair and detritus.

“What now, June?” Ratchet asked as she finished up.

“We have the samples, but it is very late. I think you should come home with me and take the spare bedroom. We can work on the samples later.”

June took the cooler of samples and hoisted it on her shoulder with the duffel bag.

“I want to start now!” Ratchet retorted with some frustration. The faster he could start the faster he could figure out what happened and hopefully reverse it.

“Ratchet, you are in a human body now. You cannot go days and days without rest. Furthermore, you are in emotional and physical shock even if you don’t feel it. Besides, you need clothes that fit. You could contaminate your specimens with trailing sleeves and trip on those pants.”

Ratchet ran his hands over his face and sighed heavily. He supposed she was right. He couldn’t stay here there were no places set up for humans and staying with the children was out of the questions for a myriad of reasons.

“Okay.”

June nodded and Ratchet followed her out of the washroom. He stopped her for a moment to look into the various chambers where his comrades were. They were all in deep recharge. He nodded to June. They stepped out into the daylight of late evening. June sighed at the sight. She’d have to call off work again. She may not have a job soon. Ratchet just stood myopically staring. He was just realizing how little of the electromagnetic spectrum he could see with human eyes and how the light hurt them. He squinted.

“Well, Ms. Darby! Are we going to stand her all evening?” Ratchet spat testily.

June rolled her eyes, “Come on, Doctor!”

She walked over to her old car and tossed the stuff to the back. She went round and unlocked the passenger door. She opened the door and waited with one eyebrow arched. Ratchet hobbled over to the car trying not to cry out as the hot asphalt burned his feet and the gravel bit into them.

“You know, Bill did send shoes.”

“Damned things were too big. You damned squishy humans. How did you manage to survive much less evolve into a sentient species is beyond me!” Ratchet snarled as he sat down into the car and yanked his feet in belatedly realizing the inferno in the car. Sweat broke out in his forehead.

“Primus, kill me now!” Ratchet groaned.

June reached around him to buckle him up in the seat belt, slammed the door. June slid into her own seat a few seconds later and turned the car over. Silently, they pulled out of the driveway and began the journey back towards June’s home.


End file.
